


The Funkification of Blaine Warbler

by Esperanto



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, Fic Exchange, Glee Potluck Big Bang 2020, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivousness, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperanto/pseuds/Esperanto
Summary: When Rachel spies on the Warblers to scope out their competition for Sectionals, she is alarmed to discover how talented they are. Determined to get the edge for Sectionals, the New Directions decide to take a page out of Vocal Adrenaline's playbook and pull off a "funkification" of their own that starts Kurt and Blaine off on entirely the wrong foot.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 43
Kudos: 103
Collections: Glee Potluck Big Bang 2020





	The Funkification of Blaine Warbler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlurglesmurfKlaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlurglesmurfKlaine/gifts).



> Written for the 2020 Glee Potluck Big Bang Fic Exchange for BlurglesmurfKlaine.  
> Requested tropes included: misunderstandings, obliviousness, comedy, and brotherly Furt.
> 
> Thank you to BlurglesmurfKlaine for encouraging me to participate in this writing challenge in the first place! Getting partnered up was a hilarious and delightful turn of events. After everything you've done for me, it was wonderful to have this opportunity to write something just for you! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I hope this silly little story can bring some mirth and distraction to everyone in this very challenging time! Wishing you all safety and health (both physical and mental).

__

_“Emergency Glee Club meeting after school today. Attendance is MANDATORY.”_

Kurt sighed as he read the overbearing text message from Rachel. He held his phone out so Mercedes could read it. “Did you see this bullshit? She really does think she runs the club, doesn’t she? ‘Attendance is mandatory’? Seriously?”

Mercedes rolled her eyes. “Boo, you didn’t even see the e-vite she sent out too. Are you going?”

He sighed again. “I wish I could blow it off, but the only thing worse than Rachel’s drama is missing out on Rachel’s drama, you know?”

She laughed. “Oh god, that’s so… depressingly accurate.” 

The bell rang, so Kurt grabbed his math book and closed his locker. “See you later.”

—

“Where is Mr. Schuester?”

“Can she really just call a Glee Club meeting?”

Rachel mustered as much height as she could manage and silenced them all with a smoldering glare. “Mr. Schuester is not invited, and as for whether or not I can call a Glee Club meeting, I called the meeting and you all came, so I think that answers that.”

Kurt hung his head and whispered to Mercedes. “Oh god, she’s right. I hate that she’s right. Why do we do this to ourselves?”

Mercedes just shrugged.

In unnecessarily hushed tones, Rachel explained what she had done. “I know that you have all been as curious as I have about our Sectionals competition this year, but none of you had the ovaries to actually do some reconnaissance, so I stepped up.”

Santana objected. “Did you seriously try to sneak into an _all-boys_ school? That’s insane! Don’t even try to tell me that you weren’t caught!”

“Wow, I’m deeply offended that you don’t think I can pull off convincing boy drag.”

Finn muttered something under his breath, but all Kurt could make out was the word “boobs.” 

There was an awkward silence. “Really? None of you?” Rachel let out a very put-upon sigh. “Well, I _can_ pull it off, for your information. I was able to covertly observe an entire musical number, and the only reason I was _eventually_ caught is because I couldn’t find an exact match for their school uniform.”

“Called it,” Santana said smugly. Rachel looked murderous. 

Kurt was living for the drama, but sadly Puck put a stop to it before they could really get going. “Retract the claws, ladies. Out with it, Rachel, what did you find out?”

Rachel took a moment to revel in the glory of her success. Kurt could set aside his distaste at her self-satisfied smirk if she came with solid intelligence. He wanted to win Sectionals just as badly as she did. Most of the time, Kurt hated Rachel, but he could appreciate that she was the only one in Glee whose blind ambition matched his own. 

“Okay, settle in while Mama Rachel tells you a tale.”

Finn visibly gagged. “Please never call yourself that in front of me again.”

“Hush. Picture the scene, if you will. There I was, in the gleaming wood-paneled finery of Dalton Academy, admiring the stained-glass windows and the perfect acoustics— blending in _perfectly_ I might add.”

Santana audibly snorted. Rachel paused, narrowed her eyes at Santana for a moment, and then continued her story, satisfied that no further interruptions were imminent. 

“I’ve always had a remarkable eye for detail, so in no time at all, I found my way to the secret hideout of The Warblers. I snuck into the room, unnoticed, and observed them perform. And I have to tell you… they were good. They were very, very good.”

“Shit,” interjected Puck.

“Details!” Kurt demanded. “Relevant ones this time, please!”

“Okay, okay! They sang a cappella in perfect, eight-part harmony. The arrangement was creative, but would appeal to a wide audience. Their dance moves were crisp and energetic. But the worst part… the very worst part was their lead singer. Voice smooth as honey and incredibly charming. The judges are going to eat him up like cotton candy.”

Kurt felt his heart sinking quickly. _We’re doomed._

“What happened after you got caught?” Finn asked nervously.

“Oh, yes. Well, they weren’t pleased. The lead singer—Blaine something or other—grabbed me by the elbow and walked me into some fancy-pants storage closet to be interrogated by him and their ‘council’ members. They accused me of disrespecting the integrity of show choir, can you believe that? I mean **we** are the ones who had **our** set list stolen last year! We are victims!” 

“Stuck-up rich pricks,” Puck spat out in angry agreement.

“Bet they just had everything handed to them,” Finn added. 

“We have to be strategic about this,” Quinn cautioned. “What are their weaknesses?”

Kurt nodded in appreciation. _I love it when she gets conniving._

“Right! Weaknesses, okay.” Finn clapped his hands together as if that was enough to mobilize the group. “Well, they don’t have any girls, so, I mean, we’ve got that on them.”

“Don’t be so literal, Finn,” Santana scolded.

“Hey! I actually think Finn has a point,” Kurt said, rising to his half-brother’s defense. “Their vocal range and quality is going to be more limited, especially since they don’t have me. They can’t do couples dancing the way that we do. Being co-ed, I think, gives us a more dynamic quality that shouldn’t be undervalued.”

Finn gave him a grateful smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“I think their greatest advantage is also their greatest weakness,” Mercedes explained. 

“Which is?” Rachel demanded.

“They’re rich and privileged. They were born with a silver spoon so they have no grit. If we can shake their confidence a little, I think we might actually have a chance.”

Kurt jumped out of his chair with excitement. “Do you know what this means?” he squealed with excitement.

“Uh, no, dude.” Puck arched an eyebrow at Kurt, looking like he might punch him if he didn’t calm down.

Kurt cleared his throat. “We need to funkify the Warblers. Vocal Adrenaline style.”

Rachel beamed and clapped her hands together. “Oh, yes! Yes, that’s exactly what we need to do!”

—

“ _Emergency Warblers Meeting. 1600 hours.”_ Blaine sighed as he read the text message from Wesley, rolling his eyes at his friend’s continued insistence on using military time for all written communication. He had been hoping to make some headway on his philosophy paper this afternoon, but clearly it would have to wait. 

He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course, Wesley would insist on an emergency meeting after they caught that very small, very loud girl spying on them yesterday. Everything was an emergency to Wesley. Sure, Blaine was offended by the lack of sportsmanship, but he doubted they were much of a threat. So what if another team had seen them perform? It wasn’t even one of their numbers for Sectionals. Blaine knew that they were solid. He just wished that Wesley had as much faith in their team as he did.

Blaine settled himself onto one of the leather couches in the Warblers’ common room after a rather grueling double period of Japanese. _Why did I ever think it was a good idea to study a language with a completely different alphabet?_

Wesley banged his gavel, calling the meeting to order. 

The rest of the Warblers were aghast at Wesley’s tale of the secret spy from McKinley High School. Blaine had to stop himself from rolling his eyes a few times at Wesley’s overdramatic retelling. He had taken a few liberties.

“Oh, come off it, Wes. She did not have an evil smile. You’re just making that up,” Blaine grumbled.

“It was a flagrant violation of the show choir handbook code of ethics!” Thad declared vehemently

“Unacceptable,” Jeff added.

Wesley banged his gavel several times. “I will have _order_ **,** gentlemen! Don’t make me reintroduce a resolution that all Warbler meetings follow Robert’s Rules of Order, because I will _do it_.”

That shut them up. 

Thad raised his hand cautiously.

“The council recognizes Warbler Thad. You may proceed.”

“I propose we send in a formal complaint to the organizing committee. New Directions will be disqualified and our problem will be solved.”

Wesley nodded along as Thad spoke, clearly taken with his idea. “An interesting point from Warbler Thad. Do we have other suggestions?” 

Blaine frowned. “I respectfully disagree. Yes, the Warblers are big on following the rules, but we are nothing if not fierce competitors, right? Wouldn’t you rather face them on the ice at Sectionals than win by technicality? I propose we strike back in a less formal way.”

There were some murmurs of assent from around the room. Wesley frowned. “What did you have in mind?”

Blaine shrugged. “Turnabout’s fair play? They spied on us so we spy on them?”

Thad shook his head in disagreement. “We need to send a stronger message; something that will leave them intimidated.”

David perked up. “What we need is some good old fashioned pranking. What if we TP their music room?”

Nick shook his head. “I like your pranking idea, but we need to class it up a bit. I’m talking M.I.T. levels of pranking brilliance.”

Wesley sighed wistfully. “Remember the time they altered the Harvard crest to say ‘Huge Ego’? Truly epic. Alright, I can get on board with this. Let’s hear some ideas.”

Blaine sighed, hoping they wouldn’t come to regret escalating the situation.

—

At first, Kurt couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was definitely off in the choir room.

Brittany cocked her head to the side in deep concentration. When Kurt walked in, she grabbed him by the elbow. “Kurt! I’m glad you’re here. There’s been an alien abduction.”

Kurt’s laughter was strained. He was never quite sure if Brittany was joking. He awkwardly patted her hand—which was still gripping his elbow tightly—and asked, “What are you talking about, Britt?”

“The piano,” she whispered, eyes flashing wildly. “It’s been… taken.”

“I knew something looked different.

Once the other members of New Directions drifted into the choir room, Brittany reiterated her theory to a mostly skeptical audience.

“Maybe Brad took it somewhere for repairs,” Finn suggested. 

“Thank you, Finn, for being _rational_ ,” Kurt praised.

Unfortunately, Finn’s theory was debunked when Brad walked in, just as confused as the rest of them. 

“Where’s Mr. Schue? He’s nearly ten minutes late! That is downright unprofessional.” Rachel crossed her arms.

Mr. Schuester finally arrived, looking flustered. “Hello, everyone. I have to tell you something, but… well, I think it will be easier if you just come and see for yourselves.”

They followed their teacher outside. He pointed wordlessly.

“Oh my god!”

“Is that the…”

“See, I told you it was aliens!” Brittany said victoriously. “How else could it have gotten up there?”

Kurt could scarcely believe his eyes. 

It was the piano. Sitting on top of the McKinley High roof.

Rachel turned back to them. “This means war.”

—

Blaine had been reluctant at first but he was rather pleased with how their prank had turned out. It had been clever, yet intimidating. The message had been clear: don’t mess with the Warblers. As a bonus, now he knew how to disassemble and reassemble a baby grand piano. Yes, he was living his full prep school fantasy.

There was a bounce in his step as he strode down the polished oak floors of the East Building to the Warbler common room. He hummed quietly to himself as he settled onto one of the leather sofas.

Wesley banged the gavel, calling the meeting to order. “The agenda for tonight’s meeting is as follows. First item: reviewing nominated songs for Sectionals. Second item—”

Blaine never found out what the second item was, because at that very moment the doors burst open and a group of teenagers in bedazzled jean jackets walked in.

Rachel—the tiny brunette who had snuck into Dalton last week—stepped forward as spokeswoman for her group. She pointed aggressively right at Blaine. “You! You entitled, talentless pack of frat boys. How _dare_ you touch our piano! Brad will have to go to _therapy_ because of you!”

_What? Who is Brad?_

A very pretty boy, who had daringly paired his jean jacket with red, pleather pants and silver heeled boots spoke up next. “Your polyester uniforms are a crime against fashion and your behavior was simply a crime. The jury finds you guilty and sentences you to funkification!”

Blaine glowered at the dig against their uniforms. He _loved_ the Dalton uniforms. He would never forget the instant sense of acceptance and belonging he had felt the first time he put on that red and navy blazer. And funkication? What on earth was that supposed to mean?

The next Glee Clubber to step forward was somehow even more surprising-looking than the last; this one had a _mohawk_ . It was hard to reconcile that sort of hairstyle with campy jean jackets. “You’re just a bunch of rich _girls_.”

Blaine found that comment deeply offensive, but before he could start a rant about toxic masculinity, that Rachel girl started a backing [track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIAkRVBS-0U) on an alarmingly pink boombox.

You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far  
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway  
You can rely on the old man's money  
You can rely on the old man's money  
It's a **bitch** girl but it's gone too far  
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway  
Say money but it won't get you too far  
Get you too far

Blaine did not like the way they kept pointing at different members of the Warblers; he didn’t like it one bit. It felt so… aggressive. And the way they practically spat out the word “bitch,” well, it seemed like a step too far. _There’s no place for profanity in show choir._

High and dry, out of the rain  
It's so easy to hurt others when you can't feel pain  
And don't you know that a love can't grow  
'Cause there's too much to give, 'cause you'd rather live  
For the thrill of it all, oh

Blaine resented the implication that they had done anything to hurt anyone. So they had moved a piano; what was the big deal? It had been an innocent—and quite frankly genius—prank. No harm, no foul.

You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far  
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway  
You can rely on the old man's money  
You can rely on the old man's money  
It's a bitch girl and it's gone too far  
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway  
Say money but it won't get you too far  
Get you too far

This was maddening! Sure, Dalton might be an expensive private school, but it wasn’t like their performances had ever been showy. They even wore their school uniforms rather than costumes to save money. Some of the boys at Dalton might be as entitled as these public school kids thought, but certainly not Blaine. 

You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far  
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway  
You can rely on the old man's money  
You can rely on the old man's money  
It's a bitch girl and it's gone too far

They ended the number in formation, arms crossed over their chests, cold glares in their eyes. In that moment, Blaine found himself filled with an irrational hatred for every last one of them. 

They had invaded his safe space—the only one he had ever known—and flung hateful insults and accusations at him. He was suddenly overwhelmed by emotion and his hands began to shake.

Wesley and David rose to their feet, looking expectantly at Blaine. He sighed, realizing that he was expected to join them. It was always the three of them who handled things for the Warblers. People here looked up to him, relied on him; he couldn’t let them down. 

So he shoved the uncomfortable feelings deep down, like he had done so many times before, and slipped on his Blaine Warbler mask. Blaine Anderson was sensitive and easily frightened; Blaine Warbler on the other hand was the fearless and charismatic front-man of the Dalton Warblers, universally loved and respected. 

Blaine Warbler was never without a quick-witted comeback for any situation. “Thank you so much for that lovely performance, but we have already done our charitable giving for the year, so you’ll have to take your plea for donations elsewhere.” David and Wesley both chuckled. Blaine smiled, knowing that he hadn’t let them down.

“Will you see yourselves out or shall we ring for security to escort you?” David asked, emulating Blaine’s false air of cheerful politeness. 

Rachel’s jaw dropped. “Uh! I… Kurt,” she hissed loudly. “Do something!” 

The boy—Kurt apparently—flipped his hair. “You rich bitches owe us 5K. Pay up and we’ll be more than happy to show ourselves out.”

“We most certainly do not!” David protested.

“You broke our piano!” Rachel cried out, exasperated.

“Je t’accuse,” Kurt added, pointing dramatically at Blaine. 

“We did not! We relocated it, but I can assure you that all the pieces were intact when we left. If your piano is broken, then you must have done something to it in your clumsy attempts to bring it back down,” Wesley explained calmly.

“Well, we wouldn’t have been messing around with the internal workings of a baby grand piano if you hadn’t put it on the roof in the first place! Therefore, you are responsible for any damage accrued in the process of bringing it down.”

This whole argument was ridiculous. Were they seriously demanding money to replace an instrument that they themselves had broken? After they had made the first move in this war _and_ after they had just finished a very offensive and incendiary musical performance?

Blaine finally lost it. “Oh, go cry to your mommy about it.”

Kurt turned white as a sheet, and several members of The New Directions gasped. Kurt stood frozen for a moment, eyes too wide, before he turned on his heels and bolted from the room.

“What did I say?” Blaine asked, now genuinely curious.

“His mom is dead, asshole,” said Mohawk. 

“Oh, shit. Come on, how was I supposed to know that?”

Rachel went onto her tiptoes until she could stare Blaine down eye-to-eye. “I hope you sleep well tonight, prepster. We’re leaving, but you still owe us a new piano.” Blaine gulped nervously.

The intruders were finally gone. He ought to feel relieved, but all he felt was guilty.

—

That boy had _no right_ to turn up at _his_ coffee shop. I mean, who the fuck gave him permission to show up at _his_ coffee shop? No, this was utter bullshit; Kurt was quite certain about it.

And yet, there he was, looking all dapper and smug. He was laughing with his friends like he was in a goddamn Old Navy commercial; it was revolting. Kurt could see the moment he was spotted, because the boy’s entire body shifted. The fake smile melted away and the boy became almost alarmingly serious-looking. 

_He's not going to come over here, is he? Oh, god, why is he coming over?_

“Hi, um, Kurt? It’s Kurt, right?”

“Come to humiliate me further? Because you just took me by surprise before. It won’t happen again.” Kurt was used to being strong and his armor was fully up. Nothing and no one would be getting through today. Not a chance. The other day had been a fluke, a one-off.

Ignoring his question, instead the boy asked, “Can I sit?” He gestured to the empty chair across from Kurt. 

Kurt snorted. “It’s a public place. Sit wherever the hell you want. Still, I can’t promise the stink of public school won’t rub off on you if you get too close.”

Blaine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I just… I wanted to apologize, okay? I… I had no idea about your mom and, I mean, obviously, in context, that was way out of line. It’s just a stupid prank war, I didn’t mean to make it personal.”

Kurt grimaced. “Sure, whatever. Now you can run along back to your perfect life with a clear conscience.” 

Instead of leaving, the boy’s eyes flashed angrily. “I do _not_ have a perfect life. You think you know me just because you know what uniform I wear? Well, you don’t.”

Kurt scoffed. “I know enough,” he said haughtily.

Having made his apology and tired of being judged, Blaine was just about ready to leave when a large hulking boy walked up and knocked Kurt’s coffee right into the boy’s lap. Danger bells went off in Blaine’s mind and his body went rigid.

Kurt jumped to his feet, yelping from the pain of the hot liquid and eyes flashing furiously at the larger boy. “Hey! Watch where you’re going, Neanderthal. This is dry clean only.”

The bully just laughed. “I’m sorry, did I ruin your _date_ outfit? Because it was only a matter of time before he realized you’re not a real girl, Hummel.”

Blaine’s heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he was sure the entire coffee shop must be able to hear it. He wanted desperately to move, to say something, but his back seemed to be glued to the chair.

Kurt—amazingly—was still standing strong and proud, staring down this boy, seemingly unconcerned by the dramatic discrepancy in body mass between them. 

Meanwhile, Blaine was still hoping there was a chance he would be swallowed whole by the earth.

“You’re just jealous none of the girls you date will ever be as pretty as me,” Kurt snapped back.

The bully looked confused. “I… what? I don’t… ”

“I’m going to go clean myself up. Try not to think about it too hard, Karofsky; I’d hate to see you pop a vessel.” 

Kurt sauntered off towards the restroom, leaving the bully and Blaine both staring after him. They were both dumbfounded, though for very different reasons. Thankfully, the bully seemed to have no interest in Blaine and stalked off to the parking lot without another word.

Finally, Blaine was able to unwrap his fingers from the edge of his chair and let out the breath he had been holding. _He just stood up to someone twice his size like it was nothing._ Grabbing his bag, he went after Kurt.

He knocked on the men’s bathroom door. “Kurt? It’s Blaine, um, I have an extra shirt in my bag. You can borrow it if you like.”

The lock clicked open and Blaine found himself being yanked through the doorway by his necktie, the lock quickly closing behind him.

Kurt had already peeled off the fluffy sweater he had been wearing; Blaine could see a few furry tendrils peeking out from a plastic bag set neatly on top of Kurt’s bookbag. Kurt was holding the edge of his white shirt away from his body to keep the dripping away from his shoes. “An extra shirt would be great.”

Blaine pulled out one of his gym shirts, giving it a sniff to make sure it was clean, and set it on the shelf next to Kurt’s other things. Before he could look away, Kurt was peeling the wet shirt from his body and running it under the tap. 

For a moment, Blaine was transfixed. 

This day was starting to be a bit much for him. All he had wanted to do was apologize to the poor motherless boy he had inadvertently insulted and somehow he had found himself locked in the men’s room with a very wet, shirtless boy whom he was just now realizing he was dizzyingly attracted to. 

“You don’t happen to have a towel in there too, do you?” 

Blaine fervently hoped he hadn’t been caught staring. “No, sorry.” He winced at how breathless his voice had come out. _Way to keep it cool, Blaine._

Then Kurt’s lean arms were stretching overhead to pull his head through Blaine’s gray, cotton gym shirt. Kurt’s laugh tinkled like a bell as he read the front, “Property of Dalton. I can’t let Rachel see me like this; she’ll think I’m a traitor.”

Blaine couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Kurt with his designer pants on the bottom and Blaine’s horribly ordinary gym shirt on top. The contrast was comical.

As he considered the sight of Kurt wearing his shirt, it also occurred to him that there was something about it that appealed to him. It activated a heretofore undiscovered possessive instinct within him that twisted sharply in his gut. Blaine cleared his throat, trying to shake himself out of it. 

“What’s your number?” Kurt asked, pulling out his phone.

_He wants my number?_ _Is he trying to ask me out?_

Kurt must have noticed his blank stare of confusion. “So I can return the shirt, dummy.”

Blaine felt his cheeks flush. “Oh! Yeah, obviously.” He reached for Kurt’s phone and entered his number with trembling hands.

Kurt cleared his throat, clearly feeling awkward. “I’m, uh, going to… go now. Thanks for the shirt. I’ll text you to arrange a time to return it.”

Blaine nodded wordlessly. _What the hell just happened?_

—

Wesley banged his gavel sharply on the desk several times, calling The Warblers to order.

“First item on the agenda: a resolution to recompense New Directions for the loss of their piano. Arguments for and against?”

There was no shortage of arguments against. 

“ _We_ didn’t break it!”

“It’s not our fault they’re too incompetent to properly disassemble a baby grand.” 

Blaine raised his hand. 

“The council acknowledges Warbler Blaine.”

“I hear what everyone is saying, but… is that really the energy we want to be putting out into the world? I think we’re better than that. Yes, technically, we didn’t break it, but let’s be the bigger men here. I propose we take the high road.”

There were several murmurs of agreement.

“Let’s take a vote. All in favor?” Wesley paused to count hands. “Against?” Another pause. “The ayes have it.” With a bang of the gavel, it was official.

“Second point of business: how are we going to raise $5,000?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

Thad rolled his eyes and then raised his hand.

“The council acknowledges Warbler Thad.”

“I’ll just ask my dad to write a check. Next?”

David frowned. “I would urge caution in this matter. The involvement of parents or guardians risks word spreading to school administration that we broke into a rival school and damaged school property. I don’t think such behavior would be looked upon kindly. I don’t want to bring public shame to the Warblers.”

Blaine nodded his earnest agreement. This needed to stay just between them.

“It looks like we’re going to be washing a lot of cars and selling a lot of baked goods between now and Sectionals, gentlemen.”

—

The second time Blaine appeared in _his_ coffee shop was much less distressing than the first time. This time he had been invited.

“Grande nonfat mocha,” said Blaine, setting a mug in front of Kurt on the table and taking the seat across from him.

Kurt blinked in surprise. “You know my coffee order?”

Blaine just shrugged with that easy, charming smile he seemed to have perfected. Kurt was still trying to figure out if any of it was real. Blaine seemed so carefully controlled that Kurt found him frustratingly hard to read. “Good memory,” was the only explanation he offered.

“Well, that was wholly unnecessary, but thank you. Here’s your shirt back.” Kurt slid a paper bag across the table to Blaine.

“This is the closest I’ve ever come to participating in a drug deal,” Blaine said with a smirk and a wink. Kurt cocked his head to the side, studying Blaine carefully. _Nope, still can’t read him._

“And yet he claims not to be an entitled rich boy,” Kurt snapped back reflexively.

Blaine opened the bag and then laughed. “Did you seriously _iron_ my cotton gym shirt? Yes, 'cause you’re clearly such a thug.”

Kurt’s steely expression finally broke. “You’ve got me there.”

Blaine smiled and there was a glint in his eye this time that seemed almost genuine. _Maybe he’s not completely Stepford._

“Oh, hey, while I have you here, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Alright.”

“The Warblers discussed it and we’ve decided the proper thing to do is to refund your team the cost of the broken piano. The thing is… despite appearances, the Warblers don’t actually have a lot of cash on hand. But we’ve agreed to wash cars or sell cupcakes until we can pay you back. It just may… take a while.”

“I never thought I would see the day that prep school boys would have to stoop to the level of organizing a car wash. Tell me, Blaine, have any of you actually ever washed a car before?”

“I… I mean, I have, but… ” he chuckled, “I’ve honestly no idea about the others. Oh, gee, we really are in over our heads, aren’t we?” 

It was hard to feel resentful against someone currently sporting such an adorably sheepish grin. Kurt sighed. “You’ll never raise enough money that way. What you need to do is get real jobs.”

He braced for Blaine’s inevitable rejection of the very idea. To his surprise, Blaine grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “Thanks, Kurt! That’s a great idea!”

The spell faded once Blaine left. _Did I just help our competition? What’s wrong with me?_

He asked Rachel about it later and she knew exactly what had happened. “It was a classic charm offensive, Kurt. That’s how they get you to lower your defenses and then ‘wham’, they’ve got you.”

_Keep your head in the game, Kurt._

—

It took some convincing, but finally the Warblers conceded that they would all graduate high school before they raised enough money to pay back The New Directions through fundraising alone. And so, the Warblers made a pact to all get part-time jobs.

Wesley framed it as an opportunity to address the very weakness that The New Directions had pointed out to them; they needed to step outside of their ivory tower and experience the real world.

Finding a job hadn’t been easy for someone whose marketable skills didn’t go far beyond singing and dancing, but eventually Blaine found something. At least he had worked before, which was more than he could say for some of his compatriots. On the other hand, he’d never held down what you would call a “normal” job. His experience was limited to seasonal work, but since it was neither Christmas nor summer, no one was hiring teenage performers.

He showed up ten minutes early for his first shift; his parents had instilled the importance of making a strong first impression on him from an early age. His new boss looked a bit confused to see him, but ushered him inside, handed him a uniform, and gave him a brief tour.

“You said you’ve restored cars before, right, kid?” his boss asked gruffly.

“Yes, sir, that’s right. Well, technically I restored _a_ car, not multiple cars, and my dad helped a lot.”

The boss gave him a long, appraising look. “Hmm… think you can handle a tire rotation?”

“I might have one or two questions, but yes, I think I can manage.”

“Alright, once you get changed, you can get started on the Chevy.”

—

“You want to come to the farmer’s market with me this morning, Kurt?” Carole asked when he appeared in the kitchen after a full night’s beauty rest.

“Ooh, I wish! Dad’s finally hired some help, but they’re pretty untested, so I promised I’d come in and help out for a few hours this afternoon. Things can get pretty backed up there when he’s understaffed. Will you pick up some fresh fennel for me if they have any?”

“Of course.”

Kurt rolled up to his dad’s shop carrying two healthy lunches packed up in brown paper bags.

He smiled as he inhaled the familiar aroma of grease and metal; it smelled like home to him. Kurt made a stop in the front office, where he stowed their lunches in the small refrigerator.

Kurt nearly tripped over a pair of legs sticking out from underneath an old Volvo that was on its last legs. The owner wasn’t ready to part with it, so the Hummels just kept patching her up. Kurt shook his head as he realized the old girl was back, yet again.

_Must be the new hire._

The pair of legs began to shift and then a body followed after them. 

“Kurt?” asked a very surprised voice.

“Blaine! What are you doing here?” 

“I, uh, work here. Can’t you tell?”

“You _work_ here! But… _why_?”

“It’s all about that sweet sweet piano money, Kurt.”

“But _here_?”

“What? Seems like a very respectable family-run business. What’s the problem?”

Kurt let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, and it's _my_ family that runs this business. Kurt Hummel, at your service.”

“Hummel? But that would make Burt your—”

His dad chose that exact moment to join them, cheerfully unaware of the awkward conversation he had just wandered into. “Hey, kiddo! When did you get here?”

“A minute ago. I was just introducing myself to your newest employee. Making sure he doesn’t _break_ anything.” Kurt gave Blaine a hard look that his dad either didn't see or chose to ignore.

“Wonderful! Get your coveralls on and then you can walk the new kid through the engine repair in bay two.”

Kurt was huffy as he changed into one of his customized pairs of coveralls, which had a cluster of sunflowers embroidered across the back left shoulder. Blaine had looked genuinely surprised to see him, but Kurt couldn’t get past the idea that somehow, Blaine had known all along. If that was true, then what were his true motivations? Was he here to spy on Kurt? Was he somehow going to get into his head? Was he going to bankrupt his father’s business, sending Kurt into a deep depression? Kurt wasn’t wholly immune to Blaine’s charms, which meant he needed to be especially careful.

Kurt stared his own reflection down in the mirror, hoping it would help him strategize. He couldn’t go out there until he had a bullet-proof plan.

_Should I try to out-charm the charmer or go in hot, so he knows he can’t fuck with me?_

In the end, Kurt decided to play to his strengths. 

When he got to bay two, Kurt summoned his protégé. “Oy! Prep School! Get over here.” There was a small crashing sound. Blaine must have knocked over some tools. “I’m fine,” he called out, even though no one had asked.

Blaine beamed one of his 100-watt smiles. “Prep School, reporting for duty.” 

Kurt tried to remind himself that the smile was probably fake, anyways. It was difficult because he just looked so stinking cute in army green coveralls with a smudge of grease across his cheek.

Kurt wrinkled his nose to project the outward impression that he was unaffected. Kurt showed no mercy as he walked Blaine through running diagnostics on the engine. “You are holding that upside down,” Kurt scolded in his most scathing tone. But Blaine just shrugged, effervescent as ever, and flipped the tool around. “Thanks, Kurt!” 

On it went, with Kurt finding anything and everything Blaine was doing wrong and Blaine continuing along like the world’s happiest energizer bunny, thanking Kurt for teaching him, never losing that cheery grin.

_Don’t give in._

At the end of his shift, Blaine politely shook his dad’s hand and thanked him for the opportunity to work in his shop before leaving.

His dad turned to him, with a fond smile. "New kid seems great! I think he’ll work out just fine.”

Kurt scoffed. “Huh, we’ll see.”

“Am I missing something?”

“He’s my competition for Glee, Dad! What if he’s just here to spy on me?”

His dad chuckled. “Unless New Directions is performing _Greased Lightning_ at Sectionals, is he really going to gather any useful info from your old man’s tire shop? Seems like a piss-poor way to spy, if you ask me. Maybe the kid just needs a job?”

“Maybe.”

—

Blaine wondered if he should quit the job at Hummel Tire & Lube. It was obvious that Kurt didn’t want him there. Blaine had tried so hard to make a good impression, maybe even turn over a new leaf and get off on a better foot with this kid, but no matter how nice he was, it was clear that Kurt had already made up his mind about him.

_You can’t please everyone._ Blaine knew that it was true, even if he had a bad habit of trying anyways. But there was something about Kurt that made him want to try. He couldn't get past the feeling that Kurt was a kindred spirit. That somehow if he could see the real Blaine, then he would feel their connection too. It didn’t hurt that he was so goddamn gorgeous either. Nope, definitely didn’t hurt.

Perhaps the honorable thing to do was to quit the job and walk away. On the other hand, he really did need to raise money to help pay back the New Directions and Mr. Hummel had seemed so pleased to have him working in the shop. It sounded like he really needed the extra help. Blaine would hate to leave him high and dry.

In the end, he decided he would just have to stick it out for the six weeks he had signed on to work. 

—

“Kurt! Have you seen it?”

Rachel’s dark brows furrowed deeply in intense worry. “Have you?” she asked again.

“Seen what?”

“The post! It’s the Warblers! They called us out on one of the show choir blogs.”

Anger churned in Kurt’s stomach. Was this somehow related to what Blaine was doing in his father’s shop? Rachel pulled up the site on her phone and showed Kurt. It was a video of five of the Warblers, all singing and dancing in perfect synchrony to _Anything You Can Do.”_

“Shit!”

“I know, right? We have to slap back ten times as hard.”

“I wonder why Blaine isn’t in this?” _Maybe he wasn’t involved?_

“Who cares? They didn’t even use their star performer and this is still devastatingly good. That just makes it _worse_.” 

—

“Have the Warblers become a kangaroo court?” Wesley asked furiously. He had called yet another emergency meeting to discuss the video Thad had posted without consulting the full team.

“I had to defend our honor!” Thad cried out.

Wesley banged his gavel, looking murderous.

“ _You_ do not defend a fruit fly without the consideration and approval of the entire team! This is insubordination, plain and simple.”

“I was acting as a civilian,” he tried to explain.

“You were in _uniform!_ And the post was tagged #Warblers #Sectionals #Feud. In what universe does that not look like you were speaking on behalf of the group?”

Several of the Warblers who had participated in Thad’s video physically scooted their chairs away from him. They could recognize a sinking ship when they saw one.

Trent raised a nervous hand into the air.

Wesley gestured for him to speak.

“Uh, guys? I just refreshed the page and it looks like New Directions has posted a response.”

David pulled up the video onto the projector they used to watch tapes of rehearsals and analyze their strengths and weaknesses.

There was Kurt, larger than life on the common room wall, [_singing_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iVDbl2buP0Q) with more attitude than Blaine could ever pull off.

I've gone around the world and the seven seas  
I'm cashin' six-figure checks in all currencies  
It's like when I be tearin' it up in Paris  
Motherfuckers parler on the M-I-C  
It's all "ooh la la" and "ah, oui oui"  
Sippin' vin blanc in our lingerie  
Choppin' heads off with madame guillotine  
 **Even the French know better than to fuck with me**

Then Mercedes joined him.

You know when in Rome I sat down with the Romans  
Said "We need a black pope and she better be a woman"  
There'll be no more celibacy  
 **Even the Vatican knows not to fuck with me**

Then Mohawk.

You try to ban me, you can't stand me  
'Cause I'm an outlaw  
Black president livin' in the White House  
Mr. B he wrote a letter to me  
 **The FBI know better than to fuck with me**

Finally the whole group came in for the chorus.

You should know better  
You should know better  
You should know better than to fuck with me  
If you knew better you would do better  
You should know better  
You should know better  
 **You should know better than to fuck with me**

David flipped on the lights and turned off the projector. They sat in stone-faced silence for several seconds before Wesley finally spoke, sounding downright dismal. “They did a number with profanity. We have never been able to pull off a number with profanity. I’m so depressed.”

It had finally happened. The Warblers had been thrown into a funk.

—

Rachel squealed with delight when she spotted the Warblers backstage before Sectionals. “Oh my god, you guys, it worked! They look completely miserable. We officially funkified the Warblers.”

Kurt looked over and saw that she was right. Even Blaine was hunched over, his usual upbeat energy subdued. Kurt felt an unexpected pang of regret.

_This is what you wanted. The Funkification of Blaine Warbler._

_But… he just looks so sad._

“Is this really how we wanted to win? By crushing their spirit?” Kurt asked, half to himself.

“Don’t go soft on me now, Hummel,” scolded Santana. “You are a fierce bitch who will take out the competition without a second thought! That’s how you’re going to step over all the haters until you step right out of this backwards ass town altogether. Do _not_ give up on your dreams now.”

Kurt shook off his doubts and performed his heart out. The New Directions were epic. 

The Warblers, on the other hand, seemed to have lost their shine. Their harmonies were still perfect, their dance moves were still synchronized, but the force of energy and charm that was Blaine Warbler had dimmed. 

“And the first place trophy goes to… the New Directions!”

There was shouting all around him, and then Finn lifted him onto his shoulders and Kurt could see the entire crowd, clapping for _his_ team. It really was something. He felt a hand reaching for his, and there was Rachel next to him on Puck’s shoulders. They grasped hands, then the towering trophy was handed to them to lift skyward, to the heavens.

—

“Party in my basement!” Rachel declared ecstatically in the green room afterwards, before dashing off to go find her parents. Puck winked conspiratorially at the rest of them and said, “I’ll bring the booze.”

At that, most of the Glee Club gathered their belongings and ran off, determined to start partying as soon as possible. Kurt, on the other hand, took the time to put on his carefully selected victory outfit and freshen up.

Duffel over his shoulder, Kurt switched off the lights and headed back to the mostly empty auditorium.

Suddenly, he heard voices. Voices that sounded angry. “What was _that_ ? If you’re going to do all this artsy fartsy nonsense then I expect you to do it well, son. Otherwise, what’s the point of all the time you miss studying. You could be doing Speech & Debate Club or Model U.N.—something that would actually look _impressive_ on a college application.”

“But Dad, I love performing with the Warblers! I’m not passionate about those other things.”

_Blaine?_

Kurt suddenly realized he had stumbled upon a very personal conversation.

“I thought when you got that job at the car shop that you were finally seeing the value in learning real, marketable skills.”

“I got that job to raise money for Glee Club, Dad!”

“And who taught you enough about cars that you could even do that job, huh? You never would have known you liked working on cars if I hadn’t made you do it. Maybe I should just sign you up for Speech & Debate so you can see that you really do like it. I’ve given you too long of a leash, Blaine, clearly.”

Blaine laughed darkly. “You think I _like_ working on cars? I couldn’t care less about it. The only reason I stuck it out that summer was because I thought you were actually trying to get to know me. But clearly you just thought you could straighten me out or something; get me away from singing and dancing. I thought we were making progress, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Blaine,” he sighed. “You’re not being fair. This is hard for me, okay. I’m trying my best.”

“This is hard for _you_? Wow! You know what, I’ll get a ride home from one of the guys. I think I need some space right now.”

Kurt heard footsteps growing closer and desperately looked around for somewhere to hide, but found nothing.

Blaine froze when he spotted Kurt; his face crumpled.

“Great! Just great, you probably heard that whole conversation didn’t you? Just more ammunition, as if you needed any. Just this one time, can you please just... not? Tomorrow and every day after that, fine, fair game, but for this one day, can you just give me some slack?”

Kurt felt like his heart was breaking. Who was this person that Blaine thought he was? _Is that who I am? Is that who I want to be?_

Kurt reached out to put a hand on Blaine’s arm. “Hey,” he said softly. He felt Blaine’s muscles tense under his fingers, and then relax.

Blaine slumped back against the wall and then slid down until he was crouched on the floor. Kurt sat down across from him.

“Parents? They’ll fuck you up, am I right?” Blaine laughed as he said it, but Kurt could see him wipe away a tear.

“Yeah.”

“This isn’t… this isn’t me, okay. At Dalton… at Dalton, I’m Mr. Out-and-Proud. I’m talking rainbow flag in my dorm room, President of the GSA, held hands with my boyfriend in the hallways—at least until he dumped me—out and proud.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it? No witty comeback, nothing?”

Kurt sighed and then without thinking, he reached out and took Blaine’s hand.

"Look, if he can't see what an incredible kid he has than he's the one who is missing out. I'm going to tell you something that my dad told me once, when I was feeling sad and lost about who I was. Your job is to be yourself and your parent's job is to love you. Sounds like you're holding up your end of the bargain, wouldn't you say? Seems to me that he's the one with the problem."

Blaine gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. You’ve been a lot nicer than I had expected.”

“And you turned out to be a lot more human than I expected. I’m sorry for being such a bitch before; competing kind of gives me tunnel vision. I’m just… I have a lot of ambition and I really needto get out of this town, even if it takes being totally cut-throat to do it. Maybe that makes me a bad person. For whatever it’s worth, if I’d known you were gay before, I never would have been such a jerk.”

“So you’re a jerk who believes in affirmative action?” Blaine teased.

Kurt rolled his eyes, but with a smile, so Blaine would know he hadn’t gone back into bitch-mode. “No, I’m a jerk who had never met another gay person my own age before and was feeling desperately lonely because of it. I’m so jealous that you not only have other out kids at your school, but you even had a boyfriend? I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” Suddenly realizing how much he had confessed, Kurt blushed and looked down.

Blaine laughed. “I still have a lot to learn. We only went out for two weeks. I was more excited about the _idea_ of having a boyfriend than the reality of having _him_ as my boyfriend, if that makes sense.”

“It really, really does.”

Kurt gave Blaine’s hand a squeeze and then let go to brush off his pants. He rose to his feet and then offered Blaine his hand to pull him up. Kurt pulled his emergency tissues out of his duffel bag and blotted Blaine’s cheeks.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”

—

Blaine suddenly found himself becoming nervous when they got to the house.

Kurt squeezed his shoulders. “They’re going to love you.” Then he grabbed Blaine’s hand and dragged him into the dragon’s lair itself: Rachel Berry’s house.

There were a few awkward stares when they arrived at the party, but Kurt shut them down with a single, icy glare. Blaine felt a thrill being on the other side of Kurt’s withering stares; he could appreciate how forceful Kurt was about what he wanted when he wasn’t using his powers to tear Blaine down.

Mohawk—Puck, he finally found out—handed him a red solo cup of something strong. When Blaine sipped it, he felt his nerves settle down.

There was a loud throat-clearing behind him. Blaine turned around and found himself face to face with Rachel. “My dads taught me that the only way to achieve excellency is through finding the best in your field and putting yourself in direct competition with them. You were a formidable opponent and you fought well. Truce?” she asked, extending her hand for Blaine to shake.

“Just like that?” Blaine asked, hands still in his pockets.

Rachel smiled warmly at him. “Why not? We won’t be in competition with one another until next year and it was never personal. All’s fair in love and show choir, right?” 

Blaine cocked his head to the side and considered the girl in front of him. He barely knew anything about her. He reached out to shake her hand. Rachel grinned widely. Instead of letting go of his hand, she held on and dragged him over to a large, fluffy rug.

“New Directions! Circle up!” she called out loudly. She sat down on the floor and patted the spot next to her as a silent invitation for Blaine to join her. He settled himself on the floor and a moment later Kurt took the spot next to him.

“Blaine Warbler, I want to know everything about you.”

He chuckled. “Well, first of all, you _do_ know that isn’t my real name, right?”

Santana smirked. “That would have been a whole other level of incestuous.”

Blaine wrinkled his nose in disgust. “No, my name is Blaine Anderson. I was born in Columbus, but we moved to Westerville when I was seven. I attended public school until I transferred to Dalton in the middle of my freshman year.”

“Wait, what? You switched schools in the middle of the year? I didn’t know that. Why?” Kurt asked curiously.

“I, um…” Blaine paused to think. He wasn’t sure he was ready to share this story with this group of relative strangers. Maybe he would trust Kurt with his story, when he was ready. “Let’s just say things didn’t work out at my old school.”

Kurt patted his knee and gave him a soft smile. Blaine suddenly felt very warm and blushed. 

Sensing his discomfort, Kurt changed the subject to something lighter. “Guilty pleasure musical genre?”

“Oh, definitely disco!”

Kurt cringed. “I knew you couldn’t actually be perfect.”

“Whatever gave you the impression that I was?”

“Oh, come on. The perfect hair, the perfect manners, the perfect handsome face. You even had my dad wrapped around your finger after one afternoon working in his shop, and Burt Hummel is notoriously picky about my friends.”

“Are we? Friends, I mean?” Blaine asked. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Kurt’s eyes.

“Of course!” Kurt answered easily. 

Blaine let out the breath he was holding and flashed one of his signature charming grins. “Alright, friend, want to dance?”

Rachel gasped and clutched her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Kurt glared daggers at her and then turned to Blaine. “Sure.”

Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled them both to their feet. Kurt placed his other hand on Blaine’s shoulder and they began to sway and bounce along to Rachel’s poppy playlist. On one of the turns, he thought he caught Rachel mouthing, “Oh my god!” to Kurt but he couldn’t be certain. He decided he didn’t care. Besides, she looked more excited than anything else.

“So, was I right? Is this cheering you up?” Kurt asked.

“Hmm, that depends.”

“On what?” Kurt arched a questioning eyebrow at him.

“On how set you are on this whole friends thing.”

Kurt frowned and stopped dancing. “You… you don’t want to be friends with me? But I thought…” He took a step back from Blaine, looking hurt.

“Wow, hey, no, that’s not what I meant. Come back here,” he pleaded. Kurt looked confused, but stepped back into Blaine’s space.

“So what did you mean?” Kurt asked sharply.

Blaine let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry. I really am terrible at this. You know, maybe you’re right. We probably should just be friends. Clearly, I’m too much of an idiot to be anything else.”

Kurt’s eyes widened and then the most glorious smile broke out across his face. “Else? Don’t you dare take back whatever you were going to say, Blaine. Come on, please, just tell me.”

“I just thought… maybe we could be, you know, _more_ than friends. Like, uh, like maybe we could go on a, um, a date some--”

Blaine didn’t quite get to finish his thought, because suddenly Kurt’s arms were around him, squeezing him hard enough that he lost his breath. 

“I would _love_ to go on a date with you, Blaine Warbler.”

“It’s still Anderson. Christ, what am I saying, you can call me whatever you want as long as you really mean it.”

“As cute as you are when you’re all well-spoken and perfectly composed, you are downright adorable when you turn into a nervous mess.”

Blaine laughed. “Phew, that’s a relief. At least you’ll think I’m adorable when I inevitably make a complete fool of myself on our date.”

“Date,” Kurt repeated dreamily. “Oh my god, I’m going on an actual date! With an actual boy. Who’s actually gay! This is going to be tremendous.”

Kurt wrapped his hands around Blaine’s neck so they could keep dancing. One of Kurt’s fingers stroked the back of his neck, and a delicious shiver ran down Blaine’s spine. 

“Hey, Blaine?”

“Yes?”

“How does a well-mannered boy like you feel about kissing before you’ve gone on a real date?”

Blaine’s heart thudded in his chest. “In this case… definitely in favor of it.”

Kurt’s blue eyes sparkled under the lights of Rachel’s disco ball for a moment before fluttering closed. Then soft, warm lips brushed against his own, and Blaine felt as though his heart was exploding from within his chest.

He wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist and pulled him closer, kissing him back with great enthusiasm. 

“Whoo! Get it, Kurt!” shouted Puck.

Kurt flinched and he pulled back, blushing. For a moment, Blaine worried that he would regret the public nature of their first kiss, but Kurt was smiling far too widely for that to be a genuine concern.

“How romantic,” sighed Tina. Rachel looked as pleased as if she had orchestrated the whole thing.

Blaine sighed happily. None of their comments or awkward staring could ruin his feelings of euphoria right now.

The funkification of Blaine Warbler was officially over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to lilvandersteen for beta-reading this story on top of being one of the organizers of this whole shebang! You are a truly impressive editor and I appreciated the positive feedback when I was starting to have doubts.
> 
> **Music Notes:**  
>  Rich Girl - Hall and Oates  
> U Should Know Better - Robyn feat. Snoop Dogg
> 
> U Should Know Better is one of my recent song obsessions and I can't recommend listening to it enough! It's incredibly catchy!
> 
> **If you liked this, I hope you will check out my completed full-length story[Express Yourself](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110037/chapters/45409114).** If you liked the writing style and sense of humor in this story and want to read something much longer with a splash more drama and a drizzle of angst, I think you'll probably have fun!
> 
> Thanks to this whole fic exchange, I'm finally on tumblr: https://esperantoauthor.tumblr.com/


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